A Whimsical Intimacy
by Irena31
Summary: "Sorry, mate. Wizarding wedding vows are forever. Not sure the marriage would break if you plead memory loss." George pretended to think. "Temporary insanity might work though. Merlin knows that you'd be mental to wed Perfect Prefect Granger."


**And of course because of what I said and of course of because what I heard, it means that what I say now no longer matters.**

He gritted his teeth. "So that's it? Years of sneaking behind everyone's backs, years of keeping secrets from even my own twin, years of lying to everyone's faces, end like this? Because you're afraid to do anything else?"

She wrung her hands nervously, her eyes agitatedly surveying him. A thin sheen of perspiration was visible on her brow. Her eyelashes were clearly visible, their brown tint stark against her eyes. Tears threatened to spill, but what did it matter? She was intentionally doing something that would hurt him. It was obvious that it hurt her too, but he couldn't make himself care about that. For once, he put himself, his own needs, his own desires, in front of hers. After all, she had displayed the same selfishness when she had callously spoken those words. He shook his head, his shaggy auburn hair swaying with the movement. "How – how long have you…" he faltered, hating the break in his voice, hating how he couldn't bring himself to finish the question and hating that she seemed to not care about his feelings. "You told me that you were happy, that you wanted to stay this way forever. Were those all lies?"

Her eyes seemed even more anguished. "No! No, of course not. I wasn't lying. I meant it. I still do."

His fist clenched. "You know, most people want to hold onto a good thing." His bleak attempt at humor failed as the silence stretched languidly. He felt that this stillness would choke him if his anguish hadn't already. "I thought that we had…I thought we, you know," he cleared his throat, "had something worthwhile." It pained him to admit that he had expected this, this _thing_ to go on. He had abandoned his former reputation for her. Sure, he had always been the popular one, the one that everyone knew and admired from afar. Still, he was also the one criticized and chided for his careless attitude that applied to several aspects of his school career. Yes, he was Fred Weasley, the renowned Hogwarts playboy, the one who swore that he'd settle down when Lockhart finally admitted someone was better looking than him; when Umbridge declared her hatred for the color pink; when Dumbledore voiced his disgust for lemon drops; and when Voldemort invited Harry over for tea and crumpets and made his favorite treacle tart. Molly Weasley would sooner support the twins' joke shop than Fred Weasley would actually, Merlin forbid, settle down.

That changed. He regained trust in companionship, flings, and cheesy as it was, in romance. He found the value in long-term flings, had a relationship that stretched so long that the word "fling" was hardly accurate. He had believed in her and him enough to disregard his former title. He had lov – _cared_ for her. That would also change, based on her previous words.

He looked over at her. She was biting her bottom lip. He resisted the temptation to quirk his lips; he knew what a struggle it must be for her to actually stay quiet. The temptation faded when he remembered that the reason he knew her so intimately was because…Forget it. He wasn't wanted here. He was done.

* * *

"Fred. Freddie. Wake up, mate. How'd it go?"

Light poured onto his closed eyelids. He sleepily blinked and attempted to raise his head. Blurrily, he saw vivid colors everywhere. "Vivid" wasn't really the word for it. Overwhelmingly bright flashes and obnoxious bursts of magenta, turquoise, and lime green decorated his sights. Colors that should have been branded illegal invaded his vision. A boy with shockingly red hair and equally horrendous magenta robes leaned over him. "Come on, Freddie. Are you doing this just to annoy me?" He simply gazed at the boy, dumbfounded. The boy-or man, was the more accurate term- sighed impatiently. "Well, when you decide to stop gaping at me, join me in the back, okay? We still need to restock the Skiving Snackboxes. Oh, and we need a few more love potions. The more we make, the more we can slip to ickle Ronniekins." The man wiggled his eyebrows. When he failed to respond, the man frowned. "Merlin, that sweet must of really done a number on you."

Fred opened his mouth. "Er…yeah." Brilliant. His words had come out sluggishly, as though he was recovering from a medically induced nap. Evidently, his distinct vocabulary had also failed him. Instead of reassuring the man in front of him, it had the opposite effect. The man scowled. "Blimey, I'm not looking forward to explaining this. While I admire your choice in birds, mate, that wife of yours has a nasty temper. Think she'll jinx my mouth off again?"

Though Fred still felt enveloped in a thick medicated haze, one choice word caused him to speak again. "Wife?" he demanded, clearly agitated.

The man blinked. "Well, yeah. You know, the bird only you were crazy enough to get shackled with?"

Fred obviously didn't waste any words. " _Married_?" he demanded again, emphasizing the word.

The man obviously chose to make the best of the situation. He smiled lazily. "You see, Freddie, marriage is what happens when two people are either very much in love or very desperate. I think you and your wife apply to "very much in love," but then again, who knows?" His eyes widened mischievously. He had the air of someone who loved to purposely twist the meaning of another's words. "Or unless, are you trying to get out of your marriage? Bad luck for Harry then. He bet Ron twenty Galleons that you'd stay together forever. Not that there's any choice there for you. Ron's an idiot to continue that bet."

"Choice?" Fred gasped.

The man appeared sympathetic, but he also seemed to be suppressing a smirk. "Sorry, mate. Wizarding wedding vows are forever. Not sure the marriage would break if you plead memory loss." The man pretended to think seriously, even going as far as to tap his finger against his chin. "Temporary insanity might work though. Merlin knows that you'd be mental to wed Perfect Prefect Granger."

Fred didn't just gasp. His breath actually shuddered, ghosting in front of him and causing him to cough afterwards. " _Granger_?"

The man shrugged. "Granger, Hermione, Hermy, Mia, 'Mione, whatever you call her. Same person. You and I have pulled some great pranks on her, haven't we, Forge?"

Forge. Only one person ever called him that. That meant- that would mean this was- "George?" he croaked. "That's you?"

The man rolled his eyes. "No, I'm the lovechild of Dumbledore and Minnie. Honestly, Fred, what is wrong with you?" The man –no, George- stood suddenly. "Blimey, there she is now. Is it closing time already?" He leaned over Fred. "Quick, try to act better. Otherwise, our ears are going to be very sore from her yelling." A tinkling could be vaguely heard. George straightened and smiled. "Hermione!" he greeted cheerfully. "How are you?"

It took all of Fred's strength not to turn around and catch a glimpse of her. What was going on? He and Hermione had just had _that_ fight. His heart clenched in memory. And now, suddenly, they were married? What kind of mad, not to mention cruel, reality was he thrust into?

"I'm fine, George. Did all your Daydream Charms sell out yet?"

"We have a couple more." George smiled easily. "Why, fancy one for yourself? Is Freddie not fulfilling enough for you?" he teased.

"Ha ha," she said dryly. Her tone suddenly changed. "Fred? Come on, get off the floor. We need to go to dinner, remember? I made reservations."


End file.
